Into The Great Wide Open
by EmmaMoonunit
Summary: Bella exiles herself to small town Montana to pay penance for her past. But then she has a drunken encounter with a stranger that turns her world upside down.
1. Chapter 1

Music: Save A Horse, Ride a Cowboy – Big & Rich, So Hott – Kidd Rock, Buena – Morphine, What Was I Thinking – Dirks Bentley, Here for the Party – Gretchen Wilson

Honestly, I should know better by now. I mean, here I am, 30 years old and fucking a total stranger at a bar. I mean seriously, this is why I don't drink in public anymore. What the hell was I thinking?

My night started out innocuously enough. I was lounging around, bored in my motel room, biding my time until it was late enough for me to go to sleep. Only Saturday was my drinking night, and there was no alcohol in my room and no bar in this crappy ass motel. I could rapidly become a full-blown alcoholic quite easily, but so far I'd managed to keep enough of a grip on reality to realize this would probably be a bad idea, and limited myself to a once weekly indulgence. I allowed myself just one day a week to forget my god awful reality, to have fun, to have enough confidence to believe in myself again.

I really just needed a drink. Or two. Or six, to get me through the night. Just one more night until I started my new life as a wrangler at Lazy Trails Ranch outside Big Sky, Montana. I'd had a Saturday night tradition for the past year and a half now and I wasn't about to break it just because I was stuck in some lame ass motel room. It was my one time during the week when I could just throw caution to the wind and let myself really feel again. It was the one time I felt alive again. I usually surrounded myself with music and books and art on my sacred Saturdays, but stuck in this god-forsaken hellhole of a motel room, I really didn't have anything that wasn't taped up in a box. It made me feel even more dead. I had to get out.

Lazy Trails was about forty minutes away just outside Big Sky (population 1560, er now 1561) so thank god I'd decided after flying into Bozeman to stay in town for my last night of…well for my last night before I started my new life. There was a promising looking bar called the Wagon Wheel about two blocks down from the motel and I made my way down the street with a lackluster hope of finding a decent beer. I wasn't holding my breath. So far, this place seemed to be sorely lacking in the type of amenities a city girl like me was used to. Whatever. I didn't really need any amenities anymore. I mean, who needs amenities when you're going to hell anyway, right? Thankfully there was no cover and it looked like things were just starting to pick up, so I made my way over to the bar. Well, one of the three bars I could see. This place was huge. There were two dance floors and a bull machine. You know, typical country stuff. Or so I assumed. What did I know? I know horses, not hickville. So yeah, I headed to the bar and they had hard liquor and Bud in all its variations. Joy. I hate hard liquor. Give me a beer or a glass of wine and I'm happy for days. But hard liquor, I don't know, it just makes me feel sticky sweet sick before I really get a good buzz on. So I suck it up and order a Bud and knock it back. And then I have another. As I order my third I'm starting to feel a little more alive and I start to notice the music. It's not so bad. They're playing a good mix of country and rock-type stuff that I could definitely get into. I order my fourth and pound it fast, blocking out the fact that I forgot to eat dinner because by this time, I'm starting to feel pretty good. Really good. So good, in fact, I order round number… I can't remember anymore…and decide I'm sufficiently drunk enough to hit the dance floor.

I hate dancing. I should rephrase. I only hate dancing sober. I've always just felt awkward and spastic, you know? Like what the hell am I supposed to do with my feet? My hands? Do I look as awkward as I feel? It's just unnatural to me. But the more I drink, the more I lose all inhibitions and the more I really love to dance. I'm sure I look like a complete ass, but that's the beauty of liquid courage, right? Oh, and the beauty of practically being in a foreign country and not knowing a soul there…who gives a fuck? So I drink, I dance, I feel alive. I feel beautiful. I almost feel sexy. There's an art to dancing drunkenly at a bar when you're by yourself. You have to move around the floor enough so that you don't draw attention to the fact there's no one else there dancing with you. But you have to make sure you don't move around so much that people think you're trying to tear it up or anything. I'd know. I only dance by myself, and it sure as hell isn't to attract any attention to myself. I'm toxic.

So there I was, innocently nursing my drunkenness and minding my own dancey spinny business when I saw _him_ across the dance floor, watching me. Emerald eyes blazed at me beneath the most freakish copper colored sex hair I have ever seen. Seriously. It stuck up all over the place, just begging to have fingers run through it. He was wearing some nondescript tight black t-shirt that showed off just enough muscle to hint he was pretty damn ripped beneath it, and dark wash jeans that were fitted, but thank god weren't tight ass Wranglers. No one needs to see that much of your package, cowboys. He was just staring at me as he danced, hypnotizing me with those crazy shiny green eyes. I kept swaying my hips to the music, trying to move on, but I couldn't look away from his mesmerizing eyes. As he started predatorily stalking towards me through the crowd, all the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and I found my breathing growing shallower as I started to back ever so slowly away from him. Holy fuck he was hot. I had never in my life seen a man this freaking beautiful, and I'd sure as hell never felt such a physical reaction just from looking at someone. When he finally reached me, he didn't say a word. I tried to move away. I swear I did. I wasn't here to meet anyone, but my whole body was rebelling against my brain and even in my drunken stupor I could feel his pull reeling me in. Those snake charmer eyes kept working their magic on me as we started swaying in rhythm together and his hands were on my hips and his nose was in my hair and his lips were on my neck. My brain was spinning and I couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or him, but I didn't care cause _fuck_ he smelled good. Like whiskey and fresh cut hay and the sun, and suddenly we couldn't get close enough to each other. I don't know who I became in that moment but as he pulled me flush against his body and started grinding into me, I ceased to care. All I could do was feel. Feel him, in all his hard muscular glory, as we ground against each other in some electrified swaying, sweating frenzy. I was in serious danger of swooning. From his smell. From the way he felt. From how fucking beautiful he was. I couldn't help myself.

The opening drum line of some song started pounding out through the speakers and something in me snapped. I was too far gone to have any semblance of reason. I wanted him like I've never wanted anyone in my life. My hands were in his hair and his hands were on my ass and oh god the grinding and we started backing towards the bathroom. But he just kept backing me up and then we were through some backdoor and outside. He growled. I mean, fucking growled. I moaned and then my back collided with the brick wall behind the building as he shoved up against me and then I could really _feel _him and oh holy fuck he was huge. My senses were assaulted by his smell and that mouth and the feel of his hands as he raked them greedily over my body. I'd never felt this kind of intensity, this raging need to possess someone, to be possessed by someone. My hands were on his belt and his hands were up my skirt and he was pushing aside my thong and then _fuck_ he was thrusting into me with all the same wanton need I was feeling for him. I wrapped by legs around his waist as he pounded into me, fast and furious as the pressure built. His hungry mouth was kissing and licking at my throat as mine met his collarbone and just as I couldn't take it anymore and bit down, setting off his release as I exploded around him. He peppered my face and neck with little kisses as we shuddered back down into reality, and then he carefully pulled out of me, giving me this fucking sexy half-smile and I half swooned again as I righted my clothes. And then he spoke in a voice that sent me into three-quarters swoon and I knew I was in trouble. I had to get the fuck out of there.

"So, uh, would you like to get a drink or something?" I smiled back at him, hoping he couldn't see my nervousness.

"I have to run to the bathroom."

"Oh right, of course," he said, and put his hand on the small of my back as he guided me back through the door and towards the bathroom. Fuck, did this dude read the manual on how to make Bella Swan swoon? I really, really had to get out of there. As I started through the bathroom door I turned to him and said, "I'll meet you up at the bar?" He responded with a simple, "Sure," and that same half smirk/smile and I swear to god I almost fucked him again right then and there, but he saved my ass by turning and walking down the hall towards the bar. I went into the bathroom, made sure my clothes were straight and then turned and ran the fuck out of the back door back to my motel.


	2. Chapter 2

Playlist: Whiskey Girl – Toby Keith, Honky Tonk Badonkadonk – Trace Adkins, Real Good Man – Tim McGraw EPOV

Tonight was going to suck. My sister Alice was off celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend and my best friend, Jasper. This left me stuck with Jasper's sister Rosalie and my roommate Emmet. Now by himself, Emmet was always up for a good time, but ever since Rosalie had rolled into town to visit Jasper, she and Emmet wouldn't stop sucking face. So yeah, great company for me. I really didn't feel like sitting around the house trying to drown out whatever sick noises they were going to end up making, so I turned on the charm and somehow convinced them to leave the house and head on up to Bozeman so we could actually hang out in civilization.

We decided to hit up our regular favorite downtown, the Wagon Wheel. Jasper, Em, Alice, and I typically went there every couple of months or so and I figured even if Em and Rose were completely wrapped up in each other, the Wheel played good enough music, had decent enough drinks, and hot enough chicks that I could keep myself pretty well entertained. I really didn't get the whole Rose-Emmet situation and to be honest, it was kind of weirding me out. I mean, she'd been out here a few times in the ten years or so that I'd known Jasper, and she'd met Emmet before, but something snapped between them this trip. They'd always kind of had antagonistic interactions before, but ever since she came back into town ten days ago to "visit Jasper"I hadn't seen her and Emmet apart. And I don't mean apart as in not in the same room, I mean not apart as in not physically touching. None of us could really figure out what she was still doing here. She was supposed to leave last Monday, but she was still here, still staying at the house with us, and none of us had the balls to ask her if she was going back home, or just moving in at this point. I was starting to suspect we had a fifth housemate.

We hit up the bar in the back for the first few rounds of drinks and then decided to hit the dance floor. Rose and Emmet, as expected, were way too into each other and really starting to gross me out what with all the tongue and moaning and whatnot, so I started looking around for something else to do. I noticed this girl, no, this woman dancing across the floor. She didn't really look like she was from around here. She was wearing this sort of flowy blue skirt thingy and a tight white tank top that showed off her thin waist and full breasts. What? I'm a man. I notice these things. She didn't have on much makeup and her long brown hair was floating around her as she spun and swayed around the dance floor. She was a total contrast to the regular girls that would come in here, heavily made up, in their little mini skirts and too-low-cut halter tops. This girl was all sinewy sensuousness and looking like she hadn't even tried. I was intrigued.

The siren song of her hips was hypnotizing me, and assured that Rosalie and Emmet could entertain themselves, I started towards her. Her eyes locked on mine as she drew me in and the closer I got to her, the more I realized just how absurdly beautiful she was. Now I'm a pretty confident guy, and have had, well more than my fair share of women, but something about her beauty almost gave me pause. It wasn't insecurity, but it just called to me. _She _called to me. When I reached her, for the first time in my life I was at a loss for words. And then she saved me from having to slip her some stupid pick up line by grabbing my waist and pulling me flush against her body. Well okay then siren girl. I can't say I minded. Nor did I mind when she started running her hands through my hair or grinding against my leg. Things just got more intense from there. I couldn't help myself from leaning in and taking a whiff of her hair. It was like nothing I've ever smelled. There was sunshine and something tropical and home. What the hell? I have no idea where that came from so I just shoved my nose back against her and kept inhaling. This appeared to be the right thing to do as it caused her to moan and rub up even more on my rapidly hardening cock. If this continued I was going to be in some serious trouble in a crowded bar with a raging hard on. But then, yet again, she saved me by kissing me and slowly dragging me towards the back of the bar. It seemed like she was heading for the bathrooms, and I'm sorry, but that's just gross. Do you even know what kind of nasty happens late at night in bar bathrooms? I pushed closer into her and made my way to the door hidden in the back that not many people knew about.

Okay, so in hindsight it probably wasn't the best idea, but the second we made it out into the cold air of the night, one of her hands thrust down to rub me roughly through my jeans and I lost all resolve. I vaguely registered that her back was against the wall and I suddenly couldn't get enough of her…her smell, her taste, her confident sexiness, the feel of her body under my hands. She was soft and warm, and oh _god _was she wet and ready for me. Once she freed me from my pants I knew there was no turning back. I couldn't stop myself and before I knew it, I was plunging into her. Oh holy hell she was slick. And her moans. With each thrust, she moaned and the sound of it went straight through me, making me even harder, until she started to come undone around me and I lost it, exploding inside her. Her legs were shaking and I held her gently as we both came down from our orgasms. She slowly slid down my body, and then dammit if my brain didn't start thinking for the first time since I'd met her. What now? I suddenly realized I didn't even know her name, and I certainly wanted to know that and a lot more about her so I asked her if she'd like a drink. She wanted to run by the bathroom to clean up first so we agreed to meet at the bar.

Emmet and Rose were standing at one of the bars waiting for another round of drinks, and were miraculously not attached at the mouth. Emmet took one glance at my hair, gave me a wink and punched me in the arm as I leaned over to put in an order. But an order of what? She seemed down to earth, what with the relative lack of makeup. So I was guessing she wasn't a lemon drop/appletini kind of girl. But then again, she was absurdly feminine, so maybe she did like all those sugary drinks. Then I remembered the faint taste of beer on her. Okay. Beer it was. I ordered us two Buds and turned around to Emmet still smirking at me.

"What?" I said.

"How was she?"

"Really, Em? Am I that obvious?" Rosalie snorted. "Edward, if I know a starry-eyed, I-just-got-laid look, _that _is it."

Emmet seemed to find this endlessly exciting and punched me in the shoulder again. That shit was going to bruise if he didn't stop it. "Who was it? Do we know her?"

"No Emmet, 'we' do not. In fact, I don't even know her name. All I do know is that I just had the hottest sex of my life and now she's in the bathroom cleaning up. So if you could kindly wipe that idiotic grin off your face and not embarrass me, it would be greatly appreciated."

"No problem, Edward. I'm sure you're not embarrassing yourself at all by screwing someone whose name you didn't even catch. That's _so_ high school, and not embarrassing at all," he said, rolling his eyes.

I chose to (mostly) ignore him, muttering, "Asshole, " under my breath. He just laughed and turned the conversation to something else. I realized it had been a good ten minutes and she hadn't come out of the bathroom yet. I started to feel the first twinge of concern and tried to brush it off. When I was almost halfway through my beer though, I started to get worried. I went to look for her at the other two bars, realizing I never specified which of the three bars to meet up at. She wasn't at either one. Nor was she in the hallway by the bathroom. Nor was she out back. I was starting to get a little panicky. Was she okay? She must still be in the bathroom. I raced back to Rose and Emmet and asked Rose if she could check in the girls' bathroom for me. She arched an eyebrow at me.

"Come on Rose, throw me a bone." This time Emmet snickered. "Shut up asshole."

"And what exactly am I looking for?" Oh right.

"Well she's pretty petite, long brown hair, blue skirt, white tank top."

"Okay." And off she went, with me praying everything was okay with my siren girl. God, what could have happened to her in just a few minutes in the bathroom?

Rose came back way too soon. "The bathroom's empty. Sorry Edward." Disbelief clouded my brain. What? If she wasn't inside, and wasn't in the bathroom, and wasn't out back, where the hell could she be? I was getting frantic, almost running through the place, searching for her. She wasn't on the dance floor. She wasn't out front. She wasn't anywhere. Emmet was starting to look at me funny.

"Exactly how much have you had to drink, Edward?" What, did he think I hallucinated the whole thing? Rose had seen the truth of the matter written all over my face.

"Shut up asshole." How many times did I have to say that to him? What did it even matter? She was gone. Vanished. I'd just had the hottest sex of my life with some girl who'd vanished into thin air and all I knew was that I felt alone and bereft.


	3. Chapter 3

Well fuck.

I needed to stop drinking. But god, it felt so damn good. It was the only way I could forget how hideous I was. The only time I could feel good, besides when I was riding. Just downing the liquor, along with the music. A little George Strait. A little Ryan Adams. A little vodka. God, it all just made it melt away into sweet oblivion.

I rubbed my palms into my eyes. I swore to myself I wouldn't do something so stupid again and yet here I am. Fuck, I could have jeopardized my job or something and if I can't work in exile-ville what the hell does that leave me? Thank god I'll be in Big Sky and not staying here in Bozeman so at least I'll never see him again. But damn he was beautiful.

I finished packing up the rest of my toiletries and headed out into the motel lobby to wait for my ride to Lazy Trails.

As I was sitting on a chair there, scenes from last night keep playing over in my mind. His smell, that sex hair, the feel of him inside me. I shook my head roughly. Best forget him as soon as possible. Sure it was the hottest sex I'd ever had, but it's not like I'd ever see him again and it's not like I deserved to get to know anyone anyway. I shut him out of my mind as my ride arrived.

My ride's name was Bubba. Who the hell names their son Bubba? Such a hick name. Like Jett. Or Cord. Bubba Clearwater was the son of the owners of Lazy Trails. The ride to the ranch was tortuous. Bubba talked so damned slowly I found myself trying to finish every one of his sentences. After the second time I interrupted him, I realized I'd better keep my damn mouth shut and just let him drone on. He was nice enough. If you're into that slow thing. I guessed he was probably just shy of his early twenties, if that. After a few minutes of trying to concentrate on his small talk, I finally just zoned out and watched the scenery roll by. I couldn't believe how beautiful the country was out here. Nothing like back home. It's all just open and green and so, so vast. After about half an hour we arrived at Lazy Trails. Bubba drove past the office and guest houses and down a little dirt road that lead to the staff quarters. He dropped me and my stuff off in front of my cabin and told me his parents would be expecting me down at the office in an hour to get debriefed on everything.

My cabin seemed decent enough. Everything out here looked like it was straight of out Log Cabin Homes magazine, only, not quite as polished. Inside, the walls were made of the same just-barely-finished blondish wood logs. I guess it was supposed to look rustic to appeal to the guests, but it made me shiver just thinking about how cold it must get in there in the winter. I mean, how much insulation can a log provide? There were some threadbare blue and red quilts on the wall, as well as two on the bed and that was it in the way of décor. I had a decent sized main room with a full size bed, a desk, and a dresser. On the right was a mini kitchen with a small sink and oven and a two-thirds size fridge. Oh well. I liked to cook and it looked like this was going to be just like college and its tiny accomodations all over again. To the right of the front door was the bathroom, which thank god had a tub in it. I couldn't imagine riding 40+ hours each week and not having a tub to soak out some of the sore. I tossed down my stuff, figuring I'd have plenty of time to unpack later and headed down to the office.

It was like some sort of weird cult in there. There were about ten or so of them in the office, all looking the same, with black hair and bronzed skin. I swear they must have all been related. I was definitely the pale-faced sore thumb sticking out. At least my hair was brown. I met the patriarch, Harry. Super nice old guy. My dad Charlie would have loved him. Harry was a salt-of-the-earth, no-nonsense kind of guy. Turns out he was Bubba's dad. Also turns out Bubba's real name was Seth. Thank god. My esteem of these people rose back up a little with that tidbit of info. I also met the oldest son, Sam, who looked to be in his early thirties, a few cousins, and a sister, Leah, who wasted no time in giving me the stinkeye. Whatever bitch. I wasn't here to make friends. My first hunch was accurate in that they were all related. They were descendants of one of the local native tribes. Mom Sue ran the kitchen and housekeeping staff, while Harry and Sam ran the ranching arm of the operation.

They spent about ten minutes making the introductions before the door opened and another one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-other walked through the door. Tall and tan and blond-haired, blue eyed, he was a dead-ringer for that guy Casey on American Idol a couple years back. In a previous life, I would have been all over that. Except I couldn't stop thinking about Senor Sex-Hair from the bar. And holy shit he had a wedding ring. I mentally bitch-slapped myself. Dumbass.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Hale."Harry Clearwater clearly did not seem impressed to see Mr. Hale sliding in so late.

"Sorry Harry. Sue had me taste-testing again." Ooh dirty boy. There were murmurs of understanding from around the room. Oh. Clearly, I was off-target again. Maybe he really was just taste testing food.

"Well go ahead and make yourself comfortable. We were just giving Bella the lay of the land." Harry nodded in my direction and Mr. Hale looked over and tipped his hat at me. Seriously? Good lord I'd gone back in time a hundred years. I sighed. At least he was good looking.

Harry then proceeded to give us the lowdown on how the weeks would run. Seemed like everyone else knew the routine. Which made sense as they clearly all grew up doing this. Except for Mr. Hale, although it was also obvious he'd done this before. So I was the only new one and this was all for my benefit.

We'd have a week to pull in the horses, handle the worming, shoeing, and assessments to get them ready before the guests started arriving. Long hours, hard work, not much time off. Sounded perfect. Lots of hard labor, lots of riding, heat, and dust, and no time left over to think about my own life or to dwell on my own stupidity.

Sam was head wrangler. He, Leah, Mr. Hale and I broke off from the rest of the group and headed down to the barn. Sam gave me the basic lay of the land and asked Leah to pick one of the corralled horses for me to saddle up and start working. She picked some wild-eyed burly looking chestnut thing named Ringer. Honestly, what is with these people and their names?

Leah sneered at me again and said,

"Think you can handle it, City Girl?"

Great. Madam Stinkeye was hazing me.

"Ringer's short for dead ringer. Not cause he looks like someone, but because no one who rides him gets out alive." Then she laughed maniacally. Freak. Harry had seemed to have confidence in me and my riding skills when we spoke on the phone, but you can't really find out everything about a job without actually, you know, doing it.

Ringer didn't seem so bad. A little high strung, but nothing I couldn't handle. He was a little flighty and had opinions, and but seemed like he really just desperately needed someone to take the lead for him so he could stop stressing about it. No problem. He gave a half-hearted attempt to buck when I asked him to lope, but I pulled his head up before he was able to get properly rounded up enough to get his butt off the ground. I heard Leah huff and Jasper chuckle. Seriously? That's the best this horse has? Pshah.

We set out to work on rounding up the horses out in the winter pasture. These people had some serious land. It took us about an hour just to get to the pasture, and we were trotting the whole way. I hadn't ridden much lately and I knew I was going to be in a world of hurt for the next few days. After the better part of the afternoon was shot, we managed to get the 50 or so head of horses back to the barn and into the holding pens.

As the dust kicked up by the horses dances in the fading orange sunlight, Mr. Hale and I work on separating out the mares with foals from the geldings, and I find out his first name was Jasper. We just sort of instantly clicked. He had this I'm-in-no-hurry easy way about him that just put me at ease. I kept asking him questions about himself to deflect the conversation away from me, and I found out he'd been here about 10 years, and was originally from Texas which would explain his faint drawl.

I asked about his wife. He got a dreamy look in his eyes and told me, "Her name's Alice. She used to be a big deal barrel racer around here, but after we got married, she settled down and now she runs a pretty large business designing show shirts for all the rodeo queens in town."

"In Bozeman?" I ask him.

"Nope, here in Big Sky. There's enough tourist business to keep her storefront afloat, and she makes up the difference with a solid online presence." Interesting. I thought these people were stuck in the dark ages.

Apparently that look registered on my face because he then said, "It might seem like these people are stuck in the dark ages, but a lot of us are college educated, and some of us have even,"he held his index finger up to his lips, "been out of state. But don't tell anyone I told you that." And then the fucker winked at me.

I couldn't help grinning at him.

"So what about you Bella darlin'? What's your story?"

Crap. I really didn't feel like getting into my sordid personal details during our first meet and greet, so I had to come up with something fast.

"I'm from Vermont." Gah, what? I don't know anything about Vermont!

"Vermont, huh? I don't know anything about Vermont." I laughed. I think this guy is my soul mate.

"Yeah. My husband's a senator, but you know, to protect his anonymity, I can't tell you his real name, so let's just call him Stan."

I did happen to notice the quick glance down at my very bare left ring finger, and the odd look he shot me, but I chose to ignore it and thankfully, he dropped it. Lots of people don't wear wedding rings. Let him think what he wants.

We continued talking until after we'd we finished sorting the horses and untacking. I found out he also had a sister in town, as well as what sounded like a pretty solid group of friends. Some of them had a band and most of them grew up in the area. As I fell into bed that night, exhausted, but mildly contented, thinking my exile here might not be so awful if I had a friend.


End file.
